


Soldier Squad

by Nizhoni93



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst and Drama, BAMF Jonas, Backstory, Best Friends, Boarding School, Boy Squad, Boy Squad and Balloon Squad are like one big squad, Evak Whump, Eventual Romance, Exposition, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Genius Isak, High School, High Stakes, Hostage Situations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Film, Intense, Isak Valtersen is a Good Friend, Jonas Whump, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Girl Squad, Movie AU, Partying, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Roommates, SKAM - Freeform, Self-Defense, Sex, Slow Burn, Teen Romance, Terrorism, Terrorists, The Balloon Squad (SKAM), The Penetrators (SKAM Norway), Whump, You'll just have to read and see, antics, minute by minute, potential Character Death, squad goals, villians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizhoni93/pseuds/Nizhoni93
Summary: Reeling from the guilt of a prank gone wrong, Jonas Vasquez is sent by his Papa to an elite all boys’ boarding school in Oslo Norway as punishment. Surprisingly, The Regis School for Boys is not the condemning life sentence he’d expected. Kosegruppa Hall turns out to be the found family he always needed. A dorm full of pranksters and ragtag rejects just like him. Together they rein over Regis, hellions on a mission to make this school semester an epic one. But when the unthinkable strikes and a group of terrorists enter the school, hell bent on devastating the strong foundation Jonas and his friends have built, the squad decides to take a stand. Turns out the school's worst troublemakers might also be everyone’s saviors. As stakes get higher, the boys are left facing some harsh realities and questioning what truly matters to them most in desperate times.
Relationships: Eva Kviig Mohn/Christoffer Schistad, Eva Kviig Mohn/Jonas Noah Vasquez, Even Bech Næsheim & Jonas Noah Vasquez, Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen, Isak Valtersen & Jonas Noah Vasquez, Magnus Fossbakken/Vilde Lien Hellerud, William Magnusson/Noora Amalie Sætre, Yousef Acar/Sana Bakkoush
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. REJECTS

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ :-) 
> 
> Hey friends! Thank you all in advance for clicking and taking an interest in this story. A few things to note before you start: 
> 
> 1\. This story is an AU based of a 1991 film called Toy Soldiers (not to be mistaken with Small Soldiers, a film about actual toy soldiers lol). While this story is inspired by Toy Soldiers and will loosely follow its general scene format, it will also have original scenes and most of the dialogue and exposition is my own, so this will definitely be an original reading experience. 
> 
> 2\. While I'm well aware boarding schools don't really exist in Norway for the sake of this fanfic, let's say they do. I'm combining my knowledge of how schools run in Norway with how boarding schools are run in other countries around the world. Please remember this is a fictionalized school, and therefore I'll be taking many liberties here. Mainly when describing the boarding school system and experience, so please bear with me.
> 
> 3\. There will be eventual violence and potential triggering themes. If there's ever a point in which I feel like a reader may be triggered I'll be sure to put warnings in the authors notes so please do protect yourselves and read the notes before every chapter. 
> 
> 4\. I haven't forgotten the ships. This story is going to be a major slow burn but it'll be worth it for everyone's favourite pairings. 
> 
> 5\. Chapters will be released in clips, following the same format as Skam. 
> 
> 6\. Enjoy!!!

MANDAG 13:01

Thea  


Hei J. Look it's been a month already, I'm never going to stop sending you these texts so why not just bite the bullet and answer me, huh?

Jonas come on…

You know, I don't blame you for what happened that night, right? It was an accident. Lorenzo…he didn't mean those things he said either. You aren't like her.

Not even a little bit.

Please respond?

Jonas is typing  
...

Fine. Whatever.

FREDAG 21:48

Thea  


So Lorenzo got another letter from Regis today. It came before school got out so he read it before I could intercept. Sorry dude. But, seems someone tagged the Sheriff's police cruiser with the word "REJECTS" all over? Nice work. Though you're lucky you only got probation and they didn't end up expelling your idiot ass.

Lorenzo was flipping his shit, as per usual.

Ka-friggin-boom!

Don't worry. Abuelita made her "special" brownies to mellow him out.

Crisis averted. He's forgotten all about said letter. They're baked and watching La Casa de Papel in the living room now. You're caught up right? I think they're at the part where they sing Bella Ciao by the fireplace.

OMG! Lorenzo's got his feet on the couch and he’s dancing and singing along! The batch was too strong! I REPEAT! The batch was too strong! Abuelita's actually trying to coax him down off the cushions right now.

Come on dude, you can't tell me you don't have any commentary for this.

Jonas is typing  
...

HOLY SHIT! He just fell. I'm getting ice. Be back in a sec.

Damn, I was really hoping there'd be a message when I got back…

Bella Ow! Ow! OW!

Lorenzo's greened out. I think he still thinks he's Berlin. Must be nice, being all the way in Oslo while I'm stuck here dealing with this shit. The least you could do is respond, seeing as you've got plenty of time to kill in detention now.

Jesus Christ. HE JUST ATE ANOTHER BROWNIE.

I'm not kidding J…save me.

SØNDAG 15:12

Thea  


TEXT ME BACK.

This is getting ridiculous. I at least need to know that they haven't brainwashed you into submission since we got the last letter. Things have been weirdly quiet on our end and I’ve got to say, I'm kinda looking forward to what's coming next. It'll at least let me know you're alive. You are alive right?

✌

Goddamnit Jonas. Really? That's all I get!?

🖕

🤦

It's progress... I guess. Love you bro. Abuelita sends her love too. Ttys I hope.

FREDAG 10:22

Having to endure gym class in weather like this should be outlawed.

It's one of those excruciatingly hot days, when summer's on the horizon and rays of sunlight reign down in yellow curtains. The sky is a muted blue and everything looks slightly wavy and blurred at the edges. Salty sweat beads down Jonas' forehead and gets caught in his eyebrows forest. If it weren't for being so tan, he'd already be burnt by now. He says a silent prayer for Magnus, his poor, oh so pasty friend. _Good luck bud._

Jonas' cleats pound against asphalt as he breaks gym formation, jogging past a gaggle of students including a very viscid, very heavily breathing Mags so he can meet Isak at the front lines. It's not easy trying to catch up to him. Isak's faster than anyone in their entire year—probably the whole school actually. For every one stride Jonas makes, Isak makes two, and barely breaks a sweat while doing so. Jonas burgeons his speed to an all out sprint just to keep pace. His football shorts flap against his thighs, catching air as he trails up, close enough behind Isak to catch his attention.

"Psst!" he hisses, throat rasping and parched, "Issy, psssst!"

Isak sighs and rolls his eyes. He swivels mid-stride so he facing Jonas and prances backward, looking at Jonas with the absolute grace of a ballet-dancing gazelle. Silk spun waves flopping mid-air, cheeks only faintly flushed, green eyes catching the sunlight. Jonas is covered in dirt and sweat all over and golden boy is over here completely in his element. Unfair. Just totally unfair. A six game football scrimmage paired with a five-mile jog around the school grounds shouldn't work in someone’s favour.

Like, he's not even sweating. He's glistening. Who the fuck glistens?

Yet another addition to Jonas' growing list of 'WHY MY BEST FRIEND IS AN ALIEN,' along with:

  1. He makes tea with tap water.
  2. His grump readings are off the charts.
  3. He's obsessed with parallel universes.
  4. He turned Emma Larsen down for a date. 6 times!!
  5. He's smarter then any human ever. Living or dead.



Number five is actually how they met. Isak's not rich like the other kids going to their school. He's on a 'genius' scholarship. Tuition may be free in Norway, but scholarship pays for his room and board, the only way he can keep attending the **Regis School for Boys**. Last semester, when all that stuff was going down with his mom and his dad just up and pissed right off, he'd been so stressed he forgot to renew his scholarship application before the deadline.

Jonas happened to be walking into the bathroom right when Isak wasn’t processing the news very well. He's not even sure what possessed him to knock on the stall door— _Thea would probably say it was something like fate. Abuelita always fills her head with hoity-toity hippy, spiritual junk like that._ But Jonas isn’t buying it. They’d just found each other, right place, and right time—a random, albeit brilliant coincidence. No cosmic force gets to take credit for that. Isak was in a desperate state, inconsolable because his scholarship was passed off to another student and Jonas sympathized, felt compelled to help him, despite them being total strangers. The rest was history.

Of course it’s Jonas’ idea to start a side hustle, because if there's even one thing he inherited from his papa, Lorenzo, it's his keen business savvy. So it goes like this, there are plenty of students who'll gladly pay top dollar to have someone else do their assignments for them. So Jonas finds the clients, handles the transactions, and Isak does the grunt work, the book reports and labs— _that sort of thing_ —whilst also getting to keep 100% of the profits for his Regis fund. In the end, it's never been about the money for Jonas anyway. He does this to help his friend. Isak's a damn good guy, and undoubtedly the most deserving person Jonas knows. He has the same right as anyone to stick around here, and Jonas isn't about to let his best friend fall between the cracks of a wayward capitalist system simply because he couldn’t pay his rent.

A consolation for Jonas is, he gets the cheap thrill of challenging a higher authority, making the rules up as he goes. He's itchy fingered that way. A free-bird. It's in his genes after all.

 _Like her_.

Isak levels Jonas with an expectant "now what?" stare and Jonas just smiles at him. If Isak's a gazelle then Jonas is a fox, dangerously mischievous, always. Though it's hard to look the part when his heart is also exploding in his chest.

"I need you to..." he pants, "distract..." pants again "Olav."

Olav is a one of many security guards stationed around the property. He's tall and bumbling and has a handlebar moustache. Jonas is convinced he only took the job because he gets to ride around in a golf cart half the time. In the face of any real danger, he's pretty sure Olav would undoubtedly turn tail. Thankfully that sort of stuff doesn't happen around this suburban slice of Oslo. Worst-case scenario is some drunken teens from the city centre sneaking into dorms at night for a party.

Nevertheless, he won’t be taking any chances while on probation. Olav is on duty at the main entrance, where the school sign is planted. _Jonas' target._ He needs him out of the picture.

Isak's still jogging backward effortlessly. "Should I even ask?"

"Better you don't, plausible deniability and all that."

Isak nods, does a two-finger salute and turns back toward the path. He whistles high pitch and loud. He throws a hand up and circles a ring through the air with his index finger. _Beckoning_. Just like that, four members of the cross-country team are following suit. The five boys stride way ahead, giving Jonas the time he needs. He can't help but be mesmerized as he watches Isak take lead, edging closer to Olaf whose stationed at the front gate. Isak swoops up next to him, and swiftly snatches the man's baton from his deputy belt.

He’s laughing, harbouring the baton just out of Olav's reach, keeping him chasing.

"You little brat! Give that back!"

Isak tosses the baton to a member of his team, who tosses it to another, who tosses it to another and they carry on like that, playing‘Keep Away’ from Olav. Jonas pounds a fist in the air, because _ja Isak—_ his best friend is a total savage—and purposely begins falling behind. Letting the others pass him till he's at the very back of the line where Even is. As always Even's head is in the clouds. He's not even trying to keep pace anymore, just walking leisurely behind everyone else. He's got a sketchbook with him, and he's scribbling in it, glancing between the trees, and the yard, and the students like he's trying to capture every moment in one loud, roaring crescendo.

Even’s his roommate, a total romantic that lives in the now. He’s also bipolar. It’s easy for him to get trapped by his own thoughts, so he tries his best to tackle things as they come, to never plan ahead and just soak in every moment of the day, good or bad, for what it is. According to him, "Tomorrow’s never a guarantee, it's just a prospect. So the only thing we ever need to worry about is what we’re doing the next minute.” It's something Jonas finds so effin’ admirable about him.

'Going with the flow’ also means he avoids regulation and competition in all forms. So gym class is kinda a cakewalk for him. Its amazing how he can be so unbidden by things like timers and beating school records. Though Jonas is only 95% convinced it has nothing to do with the fact that despite looking like a James Dean reincarnate, with his smouldering blue eyes, golden hair and bubblegum lips, Even's got about as much physical dexterity as a walking, talking noodle. His abnormally long limbs just weren't built for sports and it's not exactly pretty when he tries, even if Even is. Still, that doesn't change the fact that he's just about the coolest guy Jonas has ever met.

Like, the dude’s a self-proclaimed expert of pop culture. Knows everything there is to know about film and music and art. That's how Jonas got the paints for today. Even's got a hook-up in town, and he keeps supplies stashed down in the basement with the abandoned pool where he does all his tagging.

The pool is the gang’s place, it’s where they chill, to skate and party and Even's transformed it into their own with all his many murals.

A duffle bag of footballs hangs off of one of Even's slender shoulders. The coach has finally accepted Even's completely useless in class. So he's taken to assigning Even a regular role as equipment manager instead. Works perfectly in their favour for incognito missions like these.

Jonas snaps a finger in his face, capturing Even's attention. Even armours him with a crooked smirk, closes his sketchbook and shucks the bag off his shoulder, handing it to Jonas.

Jonas slaps him on the back and the two of them duck behind the stone sign. It's an enormous, ugly old thing that resembles a headstone and reads, " **Regis School for Boys. Founded in 1881.** " Jonas opens the duffel and rifles around the equipment, pulling out the first can of spray paint.

Magnus is keeping watch for them. Looking flushed and dishevelled, and as Jonas suspected, burnt beyond belief. He hangs by the gate, long blond hair sticking to his face, squinting at Jonas even whilst sweat drips into his eyes. He shoots them a thumbs up.

Jonas shakes the canister. The glorious, metallic scent of aerosol paint floods his nostrils. Vivant orange spouts from the nozzle in fuzzy, dripping streaks. With a shit-eating grin, he sprays and X across " _Regis_ ," but still careful to avoid the school crest. He's a punk, but he's not a jerk and he can respect the symbolism of brotherhood as well as the next kid.

He changes colours for the next part and starts spelling a word above where _Regis_ used to be. He paints an "R" first in red, and then "E" in purple, "J" in green...and keeps going till he's finished

It’s one of those moments where he doesn’t have to fear when things get messy. The colours can blend together to create this far from perfect thing, and that’s okay. It’s a rainbow of _REJECTS_ and he can live with being a part of that.

Jonas beams proudly as he stands to examine his work.

"What do you think?"

"Solid." Even shrugs, "Not the best demonstration of raw artistic rebellion I've seen, but it's gets your whole, ‘eff the system’ point across well enough."

"Jesus." Jonas rolls his eyes straight into the back of his head. "We can't all be the next Banksy, Bech Næsheim."

Even chuckles and shoulders him teasingly. They stash the cans inside the duffel bag and make for the front entrance. Magnus joins rank at the gate and Isak catches sight of them approaching.

Jonas shoots him a nod and Isak smirks, slipping him a secret wink. Someone tosses the baton back to him, and with lucid charm, Isak presents it to Olav.

"Looking for this Olav?"

Olav flares his nostrils. Snatches the baton from him with a crude jerk. Glaring daggers. "Funny kid. Real funny." He hears the others paddling up the path, and turns in an instant, stopping Jonas and his friends in their tracks. "Hey, hey...hold it right there."

Jonas and Even sneak nervous glances.

Olav points the baton right at Jonas and then swivels it to Even, wagging it under his nose like a comical TV cop. Even jokingly crosses his eyes, peering down at the tip, making Jonas bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Olav says, "The Dean's looking for _you_ boys in your room."

Jonas let’s out a protracted sigh because, _oh shit—_ if the Dean’s already found the dead fish Jonas stashed in his office from the day before, Thea may be getting that letter sooner rather than later. Admittedly, it wasn't his best work and he can practically hear her chastising him, “ _Like, totally uninspired bro, you can do better than that.”_

He knows it’s true. He’s been off his game lately with exams; definitely needs to step it up a notch.

Jonas takes a page from Isak’s playbook, turns on his heels and walks backward, addressing the whole class as he shouts, "been a pleasure knowing you folks!" Even shakes his head and grabs him by the back of the collar, dragging Jonas chuckling and stumbling toward the dorms.

Isak's the only one who’s not laughing after them as they take off.


	2. Kose Bros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new chapter and as you all might notice, it's significantly longer than the last one so I hope this makes up for the long wait at least! Thanks to everyone who takes an interest in this story and for the support on the last chapter. This chapter was super fun to write and I hope you enjoy this one just as much as the last!

FREDAG 11:17

Soon as they're no longer within earshot of the cajoling chants of their classmates the novelty starts wearing away. The cheeser he'd been sporting not more than two minutes before he an Even took off, slackens. Of course Even's distinctly observant by nature and obviously takes notice.

"You plan on telling me what's wrong?"

Jonas slides him a sideways look. "Seriously man? It's been a good morning so far. Let's not go ruining it now by talking about our feelings."

"See…" and Even points at him matter-of-factly, "now that's just an easy way to develop a complex."

"I'm sorry what?"

"You'd rather we were typical 'dude-bros' who quietly suppress our feelings and cry while jerking off?" Even cocks a brow and mimics a familiar stroking motion with his hand. "Such trusty right hand therapy." He clicks his tongue, shakes his head, "Nai, I think I'll give us a little more credit than that."

Jonas chuckles, bemused, "You're ridiculous."

"And you're avoiding the question."

Even kicks a stone and it clacks against the blistering asphalt. Jonas is roped in. Overtakes him by a stride, gives the stone another kick and they keep going like that, skipping it good-naturedly between them as they make their way down the tree-lined path.

"Is it about the sign? You're not thinking the Dean's already knows, are you?"

Jonas shakes his head, "Nai, Olaf's got no clue so unless the Dean's suddenly developed alien telepathy, I think it's safe to assume we're in the clear."

He kicks the stone again. _Clack. Clack. Clack._ Goes for another punt and gets halted by Even's foot clomping down on it and blocking his access. _What the hell?_ He had an Olympic gold-medal game going on. Was trying to see if he could kick the stone passed that Kvikk Lunsj wrapper lying tucked in the grass way ahead.

"Scuse you," he grumbles at Even's sneaker, nudging it with his cleat. He's glaringly aware of Even watching him, pinning him down with his eyes. Doesn't dare look up. Even takes it upon himself to crouch on giraffe legs and hook his lowered gaze. Jonas can't help but look up under his thick, threaded lashes and _goddamn_ , Even's annoying sometimes. _Prying._ Always prying like the cereal do-gooder he is. A liberated blond strand falls into his ocean eyes that ebb like two opposing tides, a crashing contradiction, intense and soft at the same time. Impossible to deny when he's looking at Jonas like this.

"M'fine, really…"

"He declares so convincingly."

Jonas can feels his wall crumbling faster then Berlin, circa 1991. He tries, plaintively to collect himself, but it's like stacking one brick back, only to have another piece of it chip loose. A hapless endeavour. He nips the soft inner cushion of his cheek, rips tiny hunks of gooey flesh between his teeth. He's feeling insecure. _Chews and swallows. Chews and swallows_. Trying to focus on evading Even, wishes his friend weren't always so keen. He knows Even's just trying to look out for him but _is it too much to ask for friends he can't count on?_

The thought passes as quickly as it comes. He doesn't actually want that. _No way._

He had friends like that, back in Bergen—the kind he'd smoke his problems into obscurity with. It was one toke after the next, underscored by cheep beer and Nate Dogg playing on repeat from Elias' crappy laptop speakers. Slipping deeper into varying states of sobriety as the minutes crawled into hours. Getting to a point of being more plant than boy and waiting for some grand, earth-shattering answer to manifest itself between plumes of illicit must.

" _Fuck em_ ," Elias—better known as _dead-to-me-traitor-slash-shithead-slash-ex-best friend_ (though Jonas is embarrassed to admit he was probably never even that) would murmur ineptly between raspy, smoke-laced cackles—referring to yet another dispute he'd had with Lorenzo.

Jonas used to laugh along with him; blunt pressed between his lips, eyes red-rimmed and nose tipped to the ceiling, exhaling smoke rings the way he'd never admit he'd spent hours practicing. He was remiss to agree because _ja, fuck Lorenzo!_

It was as simple as that— _till it wasn't_.

The following morning he'd wake on Elias' couch, his neck kinked and mouth tasting like a landfill, and everything just came back worse. Pouring over him like he were floundering in a murky, deep-dark well of bad feelings.

It means a lot to him, that Even cares enough to ask when he senses Jonas needs it. That's he's not going to offer him as little as two words, like Elias' useless, not so divine wisdom that never helped him anyway.

"Look, I've been in an out of therapy since I was thirteen. Both my parents are shrinks and I think I can tell when a person is in a state of crisis."

"Excuse me, crisis?" That gets him and Jonas barks out a laugh. "Wow, exaggerate much—"

"The patient shows obvious signs of deflection..."

Jonas balks, "Are you psychoanalyzing me? And I do not!"

"Is highly defensive and prone to lashing out—"

"I'm going to murder you."

Even gasps, "A danger to himself and those around him."

He can't help but mirror Lorenzo in that moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing like he couldn't be more unimpressed.

At this, Even placates, "Okay, jokes aside you know you can tell me anything, right?

Jonas looks up and resigns himself to his fate. They'll have to talk about this eventually; it's a matter of time is all, because _well_...he shares a room with the guy. It's sort of unavoidable. Even's not one to give up easily and it's kind of difficult keeping secrets from someone whose literally burrowed your underwear.

He sucks in a shallow breath and just... _fine whatever_ , takes the leap. "...I got another text from Thea the other day."

Even's eyes round with realization. He dips his chin, hums. "I'm guessing you still haven't texted her back yet, have you?"

Jonas shakes his head.

"Jonas," He chides but it's more out of concern than disappointment. "You can't keep avoiding her like this, she's your sister."

Jonas combs a stressed hand through his curls, "You know she hides the letters Regis sends home for Lorenzo?"

"Is that so bad? She's just looking out for you."

"I never asked her to do that though...and it's like she keeps trying to act like nothings changed." The words stick in his throat as he explains, "As...as if we're still in this together or something. She's putting herself on the line for me, _again._ Even while I'm over here halfway across the fucking country, I'm still dragging her into my messes. She doesn't deserve that."

"So why not stop then?"

"Excuse me?" Jonas chokes on his spit a little. Stares at Even uncomprehendingly.

"You know, like stop the pranking. Isn't that the easiest answer? You can just give it all up, start anew and all that."

"What're you, crazy? I can't just _stop_. You guys couldn't even handle a simple tepee that week I was suspended. You think I'm going to abandon the troops after that fucking debacle?"

"Okay just to be clear, we'd have totally pulled that off if not for Julian snitching just cause Isak was ignoring him on chat."

"Yeah right, keep telling yourself that. How'd he even know about the plan anyway?"

"You know, I wouldn't put it past him if he were like, lurking around Kose and hiding in our clothes hampers or something crazy like that."

"Damn stalker," Jonas laughs, "and that's why you should always have a contingency plan."

"Oh, don't give me that," Even snorts back, "this coming from the guy arrested for—"

Just like that, the air shifts between them. Even catches himself, blanches, but it's already too late. It's like he's pulled that invisible tether that's been threatening to snap since Jonas' been here, _just a little tighter._ For a moment Jonas forgets what feet are for. He's drawn to a stop like he's been struck by lightening. A sensory shock-wave of memories pulse through him. Shakes his head. Blinks. _Blinks again_. But the images are seared into the back of his lids. Red and Blue lights. Blinding sheets of rain. The gurney being loaded into an ambulance. He takes a breath and smells the leather from inside the backseat of the cop car. Touches his wrists and swears he still feels the phantom sensation of cold metal cuffs.

He faintly hears Even say his name, but he's closed his eyes so he's not completely sure whether he's imagining it. Then he feels Even's spindly palms on his shoulders, _squeezing._ It's warm and grounding and _present_ , making Jonas blink owlishly and come back to it.

"Jonas, I'm sorry..."

Even's watching him, worried and Jonas swallows down the bile that threatens to singe the back of his throat. _Somehow_ , despite himself he manages to do what he does most naturally. Puts up his best front yet. Plays it off like it's nothing, overcomes the clamor that happening inside him by muffling it with a forced smile. Shrugs his five-hundred pound shoulders and spits out some semblance of composure, "forget it." His tongue scrapes the top of his mouth like a brillo pad. "We're cool."

"Jonas—" Even tries again and Jonas determinedly cuts him off. "Nai," he asserts, stepping up to Even with a muted flavour of his usual brand of cheeky confidence. Pats Even's cheek with derisive finality, "I'm going to need you to kindly fuck off right now bud."

Like his parents, Even can see through his bravado but he doesn't push and Jonas is eternally grateful for that. Even throws an arm over Jonas' shoulder, pulls him in. "You're right," he agrees, knowing Jonas is through with talking about this, at least for today. Changing the subject for his sake. He guides them back into an amiable slow step, "We couldn't do this without our leader."

He says it to try and make Jonas feel better, but Even's words end up having the complete opposite effect. Jonas has been at Regis less than a year and he's already fallen into his old habits. Did exactly what he wasn't supposed to. He pushes his luck, between hatching plans that rile up the Dean and having the entire school singing his praise.

_And what for?_

He remembers _that night_ and what Abuelita had said to him, about this strange compulsion some people have, a " _pull of the void,"_ she called it. She was sitting beside him on his bed. Her papery, wrinkled hand was corded by blue veins and rubbed at his back _delicately_ , soothing circles over his stained and rumpled T-shirt because he hadn't had the strength to change when they'd finally returned home from the hospital. He couldn't stand to face her after everything that'd happened and Jonas clutched his pillow against his stomach. Curled into a ball and glared at the wall instead, silent pules escaping him in trembling jolts. " _It's a phenomena,_ " she explained, _"You know, that feeling you get when you're standing on a cliff or on a train platform and you consider jumping? You think 'I can do that,' without even wondering about the impact."_ Abuelita stroked his arm with her thumb. Something like a hitched whimper escaped him and she leaned down, rested her chin against his shoulder and cooed, trying to calm him down. He screwed his eyes shut, blinking out tears. " _Some have a more powerful pull than others Mijo...she had it too."_

_Just like her._

He wonders if that's what this is. _The pull._

Because he thinks about the letters sent home to Thea, about how she'll react and some twisted, ego-centric part of him still wants to impress her. She was always his best hype-person. They did everything together—the only kind of team even long before Regis and the squad were part of his life. He could always count on her to watch his flank in every mission. It was invigorating knowing that if he looked beside him he'd find Thea there, proud, uncontainable, grinning wide and egging him on. Eyes alight with wilder wonder. It was the feeling of somehow flying high enough in Thea's eyes to be her hero that was worthwhile. It was silent hours spent in the night defining and defying stakes together, stars and street-lamps, working and creating, climbing rooftops and walls and scaffolding. Painting with colours as deep as the blood roaring through their veins. A calling they both answered to with screams, spreading messages others were too scared to say. They'd keep going. _keep going. Indomitable._ Leaving behind sacred proof that they'd been there. That they'd made their marks.

He needed every bit of it, every blaring, reckless, resplendent moment the void offered him.

Without her here, maybe he feels lost. Maybe he's trying to capture some part of that intrepid feeling again through his friends. That veneration that comes from their rallying, their slaps on his back, and fist bumps and laughs of utter adoration because, " _You're unbelievable dude! I can't believe you actually pulled that shit off,"_ Magnus would say. It's a consolation to what he'd shared with Thea, and he's being selfish because he doesn't want to give that up too.

...

He and Even fall into comfortable silence, walking side-by-side across the familiar stretch of campus. Regis School for Boys was built on the outskirts of Oslo's city center, on a suburban island by the Fjord. The school is four stories tall, a classic red brick building with a looming clock tower, ornamental brass finials and steeples that impale the sky. A limestone colonnade leads up the front entrance. The floral bloom bordering the lolloping iron-gate makes everything smell like lilac and dapples the lawn in purple pedals every spring. There are rolling stretches of forest surrounding the entire school and neighbouring that, a crystalline blue lake that reflects the sky. An illusion like your floating in clouds.

There are guys playing Frisbee on the grass, kids studying and perched on low hanging tree branches, clusters of friends soaking up sunlight together with blankets sprawled haphazardly across the lawn.

Jonas smiles, taking it all in. It's kind of funny, because he remembers walking through the front gates of Regis for the first time with a chip on his shoulder, certain he'd be spending the next two years of his life putting up with a bunch of uppity prep school kids. And _ja,_ he's not denying Regis has it's fair share. Like Eva's boyfriend, Chris, for instance. Mister, " _let me bust out this guitar and impress you folks with bastardized rendition of Wonder Wall._ "

The literal poster boy for, 'trust fund douche'.

_What? He's not jealous. Of course he's not._

Eva can date whoever she wants. He's got no right to say anything about it, especially considering he'd had his chance and blew it weeks ago. It's just that, he knows she could do better— _if she dated literally anyone else!_

Eva's the Dean's daughter. She lives on campus in her own suite in the faculty tower. She's in Jonas' year, but attends Nissen—a public school in town. Jonas may or may not be in love with her. He's working on figuring that part out. If he's being honest, he's been hella confused ever since that first day in the Dean's office when she'd stormed into his life like a _literal_ force to be reckoned with. Middle of the orientation meeting and suddenly there she was busting through the door, announcing to the entire room, " _I'm not fucking moving_!"

Turns out the Dean was in the midst of a pretty rocky divorce, rockier even for Eva; who'd just discovered that her Mama was planning to move them to France after the fall break for a fresh start. Eva was having none of that, laying down the law and planting her heels where she stood. It was the only time Jonas would ever see the Dean rendered powerless.

Long story short, she got her way; and thank goodness for that too, because Jonas doesn't think he could ever stand to forget her after that day.

He remembers exactly what she was wearing, a ripped _OBEY_ tee with a plaid shirt tied round her waist. Van's with yellow laces that muddied the Dean's paisley carpet. She was a stark contrast to everything surrounding her; the chesterfield office with a sky-high bookcase chalk-full of dusty old books probably about dusty old men. And she stood the hell out like an all out _'fuck you'_ to the aristocracy of it all. She had this charged, electric spark in her eyes like fiery gunmetal, and her hair was windswept, auburn strands that stuck to her face by the heated sweat of her hasty entry.

She puffed at a long strand, blowing it out of her face and he remembers thinking this girl has no right to be looking this cute _. Cute. Cute._ _Cute._ _Holy friggin cute._

Maybe he was hooked. Maybe he couldn't stop staring. Maybe his heart did an embarrassing flippy thing in his chest when she finally noticed him. Their eyes catching. She had some serious eyelash game. Like, indecently long and _blink. blink. blink. She had to know what she was doing right?_ Her brows twisted as she appraised him. She pulled an irritated face and the next thing she said was definitely not what he was hoping, _"Who the hell are you?"_

And just like that, he was a goner. Officially entered dangerous territory. Canons blazing. Blow your heart out dangerous. _So ja_ , Chris is like only a minor blip on the scale measuring the level of 'it's complicated' that he and Eva share.

…

Rollercoaster romantic life aside, and despite taking the piss on Regis regularly it's not such a terrible place in every respect. He can't deny it's basically the only place he can really call home. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to be where his boys are. It's an institution that practices everything he stands against, a tangled web of it's own capitalist politics and Jonas hates admitting it, but he doesn't know if he could've survived the past year without Regis bringing him and his squad together.

_Nai. He knows he couldn't have._

"Uh oh," Even skids to a stop and grabs Jonas' arm. He squeezes it _hard_ , breaking through his train of thought and Jonas peers up to see what's got him shook. His heart plummets straight into his stomach. A chill crawls under his skin despite the blaring heat. Gooseflesh puckers his arms.

Two black police vehicles are parked out front of Kosegruppa.

_Red and white lights. Leather. Sirens._

This isn't good.

…

Kosgruppa Hall is like the forgotten, cobwebbed corner of Regis. It is the oldest residence on campus. Though once remarkably florid in it's time, it hasn't aged very gracefully over the years. Even despite it's valiant reputation. The Hall is less a hall per say, and more a three stories tall, weathering Victorian home that's shifting on its foundation and tucked conspicuously within a small junction of woods at the back of the school. The fretwork is warped, the shingles and paint chipping away and the windows are snaked with cracks. Vines and weeds are tangled up the siding and the porch, _which is pillared and actually rather impressive_ , has one too many loose floorboards. The boys have learned where exactly to avoid stepping to eschew being entombed under the house for eternity.

It's pretty much just a giant shit hole. _But it's their shit hole._

Some say the place is supposed to be haunted by the secret lovechild that Phillip Regis fathered with his housemaid, but Jonas has yet to see the little disembodied scrapper for himself. Its historical clout is more than enough reason to keep the board members from tearing Kosegruppa down, so instead, they treat the residence kind of like a depository for a handful of 'unsavory students.' Boy's whose parents' wallets are large enough to keep them attending, but who are more pertinent to the school's reputation when out sight and out of mind.

_Not like they'll ever actually admit that though_.

There are eleven of them living here together.

Starting with an honorary mention, is Eskild, their unapologetically _gay AF_ resident advisor and guru. He's only five years older then them, but treats the squad like they're his kids. Fusses over them to an insane degree. Apparently he gets his doting habits from his sister Nora, one of Eva's friends. Jonas doesn't mind his hovering so much, Eskild's cool and is always willing to cover for them on more than one occasion with the Dean. Jonas owes a lot of their successes to him.

_Then, you have the squad._

With his record, it's no wonder why Jonas ended up in Kosegruppa Hall. Next is his second-hand man, Isak—a lovable lump of grump and the brains of the operation. Even, whose not inherently a delinquent by choice but pigeonholed as one after one to many 'episodes' on campus. Magnus, an ADHD ridden walking foot in his own mouth and Mahdi—a wannabe bookie, future day-trader and all around opportunist.

There's also the Balloon Boys. You've got, Mikael, Adam, Mutta, Yousef and Elias (not to be mistaken for: _dead-to-me-traitor-slash-shithead-slash-ex-best friend Elias)_.

The five of them are local YouTube celebrities around Oslo for their Vlog channel, _Hei Briskby_. It's mostly just them dog piling on their living room couch, doing silly internet challenges and answering questions about themselves and each other online. Jonas doesn't get it, _but hei,_ they donate half their channel proceeds to a local Mosque in Oslo, so that's cool.

Mikael has been Even's best friend since forever, he's kind of a loose canon, never knows when to quit while a plan's ahead; which usually mean plans blow up like flash paper in his face more often than not. Mutta and Adam are brothers and twin kleptomaniacs despite having no shortage of everything they ever want at their disposal. Yousef is the nicest guy you'll ever meet and a much needed voice of reason in their squad. Finally there's shrewd and headstrong Elias—incidentally his second roommate and the only housemate that Jonas can't stand and respects in equal measure. Guess that just what's bound to happen when you combine two squads into one but are still left with two leaders. The both of them are like oil and water— _repelling each other_. Always butting heads.

Jonas was told the Balloon Boys got their nickname after what's remembered as 'The Great Science Hall Inferno.' Apparently, a prank-gone haywire involving fireworks and a hundred or so helium balloons.

Or as Thea would say, " _Ka-friggin-Boom!_ "

Luckily thanks to Elias' Mama, a high-ranking Judiciary in Norway with numerous lawyer connections, the group of them managed to side-step expulsion and any charges. The whole fiasco was an accident but that doesn't stop the more close-minded assholes that go to their school from labelling Jonas' friends as 'The Five Terroteers,' of Regis. A not so original take on _Musketeers_.

Unfortunately it's a sad reality of being part of Regis' very small ethnic minority.

_Jonas can relate._

Kids here take one look at his swarthy complexion and assume he's got some seedy connection to a Mexican drug cartel. The staggering number of thick-heads who actually approach him on campus looking to score some weed is infuriating.

He sold some idiot freshman a sandwich baggie full of crab grass once, just to be a dick about it. It was no caprese salad, _a la Michael Scott in the Office_ , but he and Isak could barely contain themselves in the kitchen of a party they were all at when the same kid busted out his 'stash' to impress some girls. Jonas had to open the fridge door and yank Isak down with him, pretending to be looking for beer so they could hide their grins lest they give the joke away too early. His rib cage bloated with a self-satisfied holler when the kid finally realized he'd been duped and and got booed and jeered out the fucking door.

Served him right.

_Guess he'll think twice next time before walking up to stranger and assuming stereotypes based on the colour of his skin._

...

So happens, Olaf was a little mistaken when he'd said the Dean was looking for _he and Even_ in their rooms. They walk up the deck, greeted by Yousef and Mutta on their free periods, seated on the handrail and dangling their legs over the edge. Their feet are kissing the overgrown shrubbery on the opposite side. They share a set of ear buds between them, bobbing their heads to whatever song their listening to on Spotify.

Jonas whistles and they glance up and Yousef raises a hand in greeting. He smiles, because of course he does. This is Yousef we're talking about. The world could crack in half with hellfire spouting from the Netherrealm and Yousef would still find something positive to appreciate about it. " _At least it's nice and toasty, am I right?"_

Jonas doesn't think he can help it.

The guy is inhumanly pleasant. A hilarious contrast to his crush, Sana, who's tough as nails and only shows her soft side on days of a solar eclipse. Though Jonas notices Yousef's smile isn't quite reaching his eyes today. It's tighter, like tension is pulling his lips down at the corners. Mutta settles with an idle nod in their direction. No surprise there, it's hard to get Mutta doing anything that's not at another person's expense. Makes him an ideal prankster and a not so ideal wingman. He still remembers that time he'd thought Mutta was talking him up to some girl at a party, only to get a drink thrown in his face by _said_ girl like five minutes later. Blinking through drops of Vodka Cranberry to see Muta rolling off his bar stool with laughter. He still won't tell Jonas whatever the hell he said to get her so riled up. _Dick_.

As Jonas and Even close distance, Yousef pulls their ear buds loose and Mutta's huffs in annoyance.

"Dude, you can't go disrupting the listening experience that is Mos Def brilliantly spitting _Mathematics_ like that!"

Youssef ignores him. "Just in time to catch the cavalry." He jerks his head in the direction of the parked cars and fist bumps Even and Jonas as they approach, "They've been in there for a while.

Jonas and Even exchanged snatched glances.

Jonas says, "Olaf just said the Dean wanted to see us in our room." He looks between the cars and the front door. Hands getting clammy and feeling like he's about to walk into the belly of the beast. Stalling in dreadful anticipation.

"Nah," says Mutta, "Not you two. It's about Elias this time."

_That surprises him._

"It's not just the Dean either. Two suits showed up with him..."

"They've got badges." Yousef injects, "Seems pretty official. Apparently, it's something to do with his Mama—"

Even's eyes pucker three sizes with worry.

"She's okay isn't she?" and there's panic there, dotting his words.

Even adores Elias' family. Their parents' are good friends so he's practically grown up with Elias and Sana as like an honorary fifth addition to the Bakkoush family. His own mother is apparently a terrible cook so Even was forced to start in the kitchen young. Lest he be inexplicably poisoned by some experimental recipe she found online. He's got a particularly special bond with Mrs. Bakkoush, who taught him everything he knows about food. It kind of drives Elias mad, since he's inherently territorial to begin with. He doesn't even know his own mother's Chebakia recipe, but Even does and he hates having to come begging Even to make it for him exactly like she does, whenever he's got a craving.

"Don't worry," Yousef tries softly, "I'm sure she's fine. All of them. Trust me, I think Sana would tell me if there was any real trouble."

They don't mention that Sana's an innately stand-offish person. That's she's probably avoiding him. Scratch that. _Definitely avoiding him_. That they aren't surprised he hasn't heard from her because she's not planning on texting him, period. Yousef keeps sneaking glances at his phone. _Anticipating,_ because that's just how he is. Even when she freezes him out, usually it's his warmth and his liquid charm that manages to thaw Sana's sharpest, most glacial edges. Thing is, Muslim girls don't date non-Muslim guys. Yousef is an atheist. Ever since Sana's found out, she's been pushing him away.

She's breaks his heart and he still latches onto the futile hope that _maybe she'll see the light_ , and every time he gets hit with the same walloping reality because, _she doesn't_. It's adorable but seriously hard to watch, how hopelessly devoted he is to a girl that will never give him the time of day.

She's blocked him twice already. Unblocked him. Blocked him again.

Yousef checks his phone for the umpteenth time since they've been standing there. _So, apparently she's back to unblocking him, then._

Tired of standing here doing nothing, he turns to head inside. Someone snags his arm, stopping him and his gaze snaps to Yousef whose shaking his head. "Can't go in there dude. We've got strict orders from the Big Man."

Jonas scoffs complacently, "C'mon you mean the Dean?"

"Nai actually. I mean Eskild."

He laughs at that, "They can't just detain us from our own house."

Yousef smirks through pierced lips. Shrugs and lets him go with an expression Jonas can't quite put a finger, though he heads for the door anyway. Sticks his key in the slot, hears the dead latch _click_ and opens up.

Within an instant he's halted where he stands. His cleats make an embarrassing mousy squeak against the wood floor as he looks up and _holy cow_ …

A fat neck, burley, like ten-foot tall looking meathead is standing in the foyer and staring back at him. He's got slits for eyes and they're being narrowed on Jonas as he stands, frozen on the spot. The buttons pop on his suit, arms crossed and biceps swole in a way Jonas thinks indicates he's flexing under his sleeves.

Jonas sizes him up and _ja that's a nope_ …he's pretty sure this guy could crush him like a soda can if he tried. He swallows warily, scratches the back of his neck. "Ummm…hi."

The man grunts and it sounds like a growl more than anything. _Fucking feral as hell_. He'd put money on this guy being born as a failed mutant science experiment in some Russian lab somewhere.

His mouth feels impossibly dry. "I was actually …I came here for…see my friend's actually upstairs...so…I'll just…" he sputters on like ten different explanations on why he's just barged in and finally settles on, "never mind, I'm good."

Shuts the door, retreating back to the porch with his tail between his legs.

"That's like my nightmare."

Yousef and Mutta are cackling hysterically, tears in their eyes.

"Could have warned me!"

"But what's the fun in that?" Mutta japes, "They've got Hulk inside guarding the door like it's the fucking Queen's palace and your trying to barge in like Zoro. Can't write comedy that good."

"First of all, _what?_ That makes zero sense," Jonas crosses his arms sourly, "Second, what're we supposed to do, just wait around out here till they're done? It's our house!"

"Technically, it's the school's house." Even points out and Jonas saddles him with a glare.

"Fine smart ass, then that's our friend being interrogated in there. Shouldn't we at least try and see what's up?"

They stay quite, exchange benumbed glances and make no move whatsoever. Jonas grinds his teeth. Waves them off with a miff, "whatever." He spins on his heels and stomps to the other side of the porch. Three sets of eyes follow his back, watching him hurdle over the handrail, landing solidly on two feet and crushing a dandelion patch in his wake. He walks up the side of the house, hears Even calling after him, "Jonas what are you doing?"

Even looks to Yousef and Mutta for back up, silently pleading with his eyes but they just shrug in response. "What're you going to do?" Mutta says, "Dude's a head case."

"For fucks sake," Even bleats, and stalks after Jonas. He takes the stairs because he's sensible and doesn't have the same flare for dramatics as Jonas does. He corners the house and finds Jonas crouching surreptitiously in the grass with his back pressed against the brick siding. Assessing his next move. Jonas hears Even approach, grins at him and presses a finger to his lips. Shushing. Even rolls his eyes, "You're being silly. This isn't mission impossible."

They get on all fours and crawl their way to the back of the house. Bypass the gate because it's rusted and shrieks like a banshee when you try and open it. Instead they jemmy their bodies under the shrubbery fence that secedes the backyard. The grass is damp and wets their knees and palms. Even slips on some loose mud and winds up in a spider's nest and Jonas isn't even surprised when he starts sputtering out apologies.

"M'sorry! M'sorry!" whilst literally plucking the shell-shocked spider from his hair and placing it on a leaf.

He looks up to find Jonas watching him, amused. "What?" he flushes, "Haven't you ever read _Horton Hears a Who?_ 'A persons a person no matter how small.'"

Once in the backyard they brush off and walk up the back deck. Jonas can see that the window to the bedroom he shares with Elias and Even is already open. _Perfect._

It's like Even can read his thoughts because he says, "It's two stories up Jonas, we aren't hearing anything from down here."

"But if I stand on the lawn chair—"

"You'll still by eight feet shy."

There's a tool shed attached to the deck. It was built along with the house way back when and is definitely ancient and questionably sound. They don't really utilize it beyond hiding incriminating paraphernalia when they expect the Dean's going to make a house call. Jonas raises his chin at it, "If we climb on there I can get on your shoulders and maybe then we'll be tall enough."

Even looks uneasily at the shed, the rotting wood and cracked planks barely holding it together and derides, "There's no way I'm climbing on that. I'd actually like to survive to my twenties, thanks."

Jonas shoves his shoulder, pouts, "Dude, this doesn't work unless we're both all in. C'mon, I won't let you get hurt." He gets the lawn chair and lines it up with the shed so he can climb up easier.

"I don't think you have the celestial power to make that kind of promise," Even points out but he feels himself already relenting, as it so often goes between them. Even steps onto the chair and let's Jonas pull him up once he's climbed up himself. The shed croaks with the added addition of their weight and Jonas winces under Even's scrutinize gaze. It's a little comical watching the way he's juddering on knobby knees, crawling over the warped threshold to sit beside Jonas under the window. It's still just out of Jonas' reach, but then again, that's why there's two of them.

"Right," Jonas rubs his hands craftily. "Lean down so I can climb on your shoulders then."

Even tilts his head, giving him a look like it's not happening. "Nai" he says resolute. "You really think I came all the way up here just to wind up killing us both. _Shit!_ " He wobbles, catching himself on his palms. Looks up at Jonas in frustration, "If we're doing this, I'm getting on your shoulders."

"What? But you're taller—"

"Ja, and you're more foundationally sound. If you're forgetting, I'm built like a fucking marionette. I basically have no knees. So unless, you're keen on breaking your neck and being a seventeen-year-old paraplegic I suggest—"

"Fine!" Jonas gives up, "Whatever, just hurry up."

Even smirks triumphantly and Jonas grouses. He sits back on his heels, pressing his knees into the scraping wood so Even can climb aboard. The whole process is an embarrassing performance. Even's no better at gymnastics then he is at football. He's entirely trembling limbs and curses. Not to mention, way heavier than what Jonas was expecting. Jonas is having a hard time supporting them both. Muscles and bones rippling as he attempts to straighten the two of them up. Mind over matter he tries reminding his wailing core. Even shifts his weight the wrong way, trying to establish his bearings and Jonas feels a pang roll up his neck. He whisper screeches, "You're ass is too bony. It's digging into my goddamn shoulder!"

"You wish you had an ass like mine Vasquez," Even declares and in teasing retaliation he pulls on Jonas' ears like they're two, pliant handlebars.

Jonas hisses and pinches his hand and even though Even releases him, he still pulls an exaggerated flinch pretending to loose his grip on Even's thighs just to scare him. The joke instantly backfires because Even slaps his hands over Jonas' eyes and the disorientation nearly manages to topple them both. Jonas panics and lets Even go for an instant and he scrabbles at the air for perch. Jonas instincts kick into overdrive, the fear of dropping his friend coming to the forefront and he slaps his palms over Even's knees and leans forward so Even can catch himself on the wall. It's a lightening quick maneuver that thankfully works to steady them both.

Afterward Even bear hugs his head, like a little boy whose just discovered what gravity is, "don't drop me please," it's small and feeble and Jonas promises him, _never again._

They're the world's most pathetic two-man circus but eventually they strike the right balance between them.

_Ladies and Gentleman: Presenting The Amazing Eight-limbed Creature-Boy._

Jonas leans his legs against the house and Even uses his palms. If Even arches his neck all the way, his eyes are just able to rake over the open windowsill where he can get a clear picture of the show inside.

He looks into the room, and notices the Dean at first, pacing with one hand on his hip and the other scrubbing over his scrabbly, auburn chin. Eskild's there too. Looks worried; is hugging his silk kimono tightly against him and anxiously tapping his woolly slippers. Elias sits on his bed, the only single in the room because Jonas and Even share a bunk. His elbows are rested on his knees and his hands clutched under his chin. Knuckles reddening by how tightly he's squeezing them together. He's glaring at the floor and looking utterly pissed. There's a woman in a beige suit with a stiff hair bun that hurts Even's head. Inadvertently he scratches his scalp in solidarity. She's sharp-featured and stern looking, but her persona is sort of broken because she's sitting in Jonas' beanbag chair, probably an effort to relate to Elias on an " _I'm just one of the peeps_ ," level. She looks ridiculous, smushed in the middle of the bag and by the way she keeps scooting back up with a huff, is clearly over it.

She says with a clipped tone, "I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation young man. Ricardo Montoya is a very dangerous criminal. What we're offering you, it's a necessary precaution we're taking with everyone involved in his case. Specially with you're mother, since she's presiding—"

_Holy crap._

Even peers between his legs at Jonas, "It's about Ricardo Montoya."

Jonas looks up, forehead crimping as he squints, 'Montoya…Montoya…" He thinks for sec and suddenly his eyes widen with realization as he recalls the scary, weathered, coppery face of the man that's been plastered all over the news, mentioned in countless tweets and blowing up his reddit feed, "Holy shit, that's the mob guy on NRK, isn't it? The one they found hiding in the mountains?"

Even clenches his teeth, jaw muscles pulsing against his cheek. He opens his mouth, adds, "They're asking Elias about him…because of his Mama."

_Of course._ Elias' mother is the Minister of Justice and she oversees all things Public Security in Norway. Ricardo Montoya is a foreign prisoner, leader of a internationally expanding criminal syndicate and who for the past month has been held in Norwegian custody, in limbo, awaiting a hearing. It only makes sense that'd she be involved in his case.

Even's obviously putting the pieces together himself, because Jonas notices the expression on his face, eyes fretful like Even's on tenterhooks. Jonas gives Even's thigh a squeeze over his football shorts, trying to distract his swirling tornado mind from touching down on the worst case scenario. Even seems to appreciate it, sponges some comfort from Jonas and places his hand over Jonas' in a quiet appreciation. Eventually turns back to the window.

Elias is cracking his knuckles now, restraining his temper. He spits out, "My Mama's been a Justice since I was nine- years-old and we've never had to go into protective custody before."

"What're they saying now?" Jonas prods and Even waves him off. Doesn't answer, because he's too engrossed by what he's learning. Jonas harrumphs a little as he readjusts to Even's weight.

The woman continues, "Well we've never had to deal with a case of this magnitude before. Louise Montoya is passionately devoted to his father. We have reason to believe that he may resort to extraordinary measures to avoid Ricardo's extradition back to the States where he'll be tried. The Columbia cartel…"

"Okay, so something to do with Ricardo's son and...Columbia?" Even whispers offhandedly and Jonas tacks on, "Good coffee though…"

Even shakes his head because, _what, random?_

He looks back through the window at the exact moment Eskild happens to glance outside and their gazes catch for a split second that's a second too long.

"Ohshitshitshit abort!" Even hisses ducking instantly and hugging himself against Jonas. "I think Eskild saw me…" Even's breaths into his ear, panic panting.

"Are you sure?" Jonas grits because Even's actually crumpling him right now, "check again!"

"Why would I do that? Then he'll definitely see me."

"How are we supposed to know for sure unless—

The back gate screeches open startling them both and like a domino effect, Jonas instinctively jolts causing Even to loose his balance. His body windmills and Jonas tips with him. They hit the rooftop _SLAM!_ And the weakened shed buckles with the force of their landing. They come crashing through the roof in a clatter of dust and splintered wood. Land in a tangled, crumpled heap on the deck. They're covered in sawdust; it's in their hair, in their eyes and their choking on the stuff. Jonas' mouth his dry and tacky and he's pretty sure he's bit through his tongue because he can taste slimy copper too. He's acutely aware of Even on top of him, but doesn't bother with trying to move or pulling himself free because his heart's hammering way to fast with adrenaline and he's afraid the pain will inevitably catch up. He drops his head back against the deck and stares up at the gaping hole above them breathing hard.

"Well shit…"

"I told you," Even grunts past a wince, "Didn't I fucking tell you?" And Jonas just groans in response, can only consciously regret every life decision he's decided to make in the past five minutes.

There are footsteps approaching and a set of pale, rangier legs tucked into a pair of woolly slippers, step over the mess and over to them. They come to a stop right by Jonas' head. He lulls his head sideways and gazes up, facing the heat.

"Eskild hey—"

"First of all..." Eskild cuts him off, holding up a finger to tell him to put a cork in it, "are either of you hurt?" He's frowning, arms crossed with restrained concern. Jonas throws up an arm, _and nope not broken_ , sticks his thumb in the air as indication. Even's succumbed to a boneless boy, forehead flattened on Jonas chest trying to slowly but surely collect himself. Jonas pats his hair, "You good bud?"

Even grumbles into his T-shirt.

"He's good," Jonas answers.

Eskild sucks in a composing breath, _something he's learned from water Yoga_ , and ructions, "Okay so now that that part is out of the way. What the hell were you two thinking?" He shoots a glance at the hole and back down to them. "What was even your objective here, anyway?"

_Good question. Umm..._

"We just wanted to know what was going on upstairs with Elias," Jonas answers, "Since ya'll are being so shady about it."

"Have you two ever heard of the saying 'patience is a virtue'? It's not like you won't find out what's going on soon enough, and without having to scale a building to do it!"

Even rakes his face over Jonas shirt, rests his cheek against Jonas' chest and stares up at Eskild. "Have you ever known us to take the easy route when doing anything?"

"Nai," Eskild sighs, "I suppose not."

"So is everything good then—" Jonas injects, then sneezes on sawdust and wrinkles his nose as he clarifies, "You know, with Elias?"

Eskild isn't biting. He zips his lip and fastens an invisible key before throwing it over his shoulder, "Look it's not my place to give you the details."

Even leans up on his forearms and presses, "But Eskild, if there's something we need to know—"

"...he'll tell you himself. I'm serious you guys. Cut the shit, there's enough crazy going on right now without me having to worry about you two also. Elias can decide how much he wants to share with you if he chooses to."

Jonas nods guiltily, _doesn't push his luck_ , promising Eskild no more antics, at least until the Dean and the suits leave and Jonas can talk to Elias himself.

Just then, someone familiar calls down from the second story above them.

"Eskild, what's all the commotion down there?" It's the Dean's voice and in the mess of it all, he doesn't seem to realize Jonas and Even are in the shed too. They still tense up when they hear him. Jonas can feel Even's stomach pull in against his ribs, like he's holding his breath. Eskild fixes them with a look, telling them to stay quiet.

He walks out of the shed, or what remains of it at least and shouts up to the open window, "Fine sir, you know how this old house is. This shed was on its last legs probably since a hundred years ago." The giggle that follows is brittle and forced but thankfully the Dean doesn't take notice.

"Christ, Eskild I'm sorry about all this. I'll make sure someone's sent over to clean this up for you right away." The Dean sounds vexed, "I keep trying to convince the board members that this house just isn't safe to live in anymore. There's just too much work that has to be done …"

Eskild waves him off, "Really sir, it's fine. The boys and I are used to it."

"That may be, but you shouldn't have to be," he asserts. "Anyway, let's discuss this more on another day, okay? Right now, we're just about wrapping up with everything here, if you can come and join us again."

Eskild tells him he'll be right up, _definitely too eagerly_ , but from what Jonas can hear of the exchange, the Dean doesn't appear suspicious. He heads back inside and Eskild comes back to the shed where Jonas and Even are still laying, _undignified_ , right where he left them.

Despite himself, Eskild can't help but snicker when he returns. He leans a shoulder on the broken shed frame, hand to his cheek and preens, "You know, there are many glorious ways I can imaging finding you two in a compromising position but never anything quite like this…"

…

They don't wait much longer for answers.

Maybe half and hour later they hear the hollow thumps of footsteps tromping down the Kose's creaky stairs. Jonas, Even, Yousef and Mutta perk up as the door is hauled open. They've been killing-time on the porch listening to music, playing some stupid card game on Even's phone. Meathead and Tight Bun Lady walk outside followed by the Dean, who thanks them amiably for _'taking their time and efforts to come all the way down here'_ and shakes both their hands. Elias appears with his arms crossed and clenching his jaw looking none too pleased. Eskild hangs out in the door frame. The agents don't look their way as they head out, but Mr. Meathead and his giant foot go crashing through a porch step as he stomps down to make his exit. He curses gruffly and clutches his knee with sausage fingers, trying to pry himself loose. Tight Bun Lady is rubbing her temples, eyes closed and lips mouthing something inconspicuously to herself, probably some mantra to stay sane. The Dean starts apologizing profusely and even Elias can't help but crack a smile at the whole ridiculous situation.

"Ja, so that last steps kind of a doozy," Yousef jests, teeth biting back a laugh, but that's enough to get them all cracking up instantly. The Dean levels them with a reprimanding look and they start slapping each other's arms, shushing each other between snorts and snickers.

Once Mr. Meathead's free, the Dean walks the agents to their cars. Eskild bids them a farewell with a feathery wave of his polished hand, "Feel free to never return!" Then it's just the six of them, alone on the porch.

Elia's puffs out a huge breath, his cheeks bloating and deflating cartoonly. He runs a palm tensely over his buzzed scalp. "Fuck."

They corral around him and all ask a million questions all at once. Eskild shoos them off, ushers Elias onto the bench they've got siting outside. "Give him some room people! Poor little fella just had his whole world turned upside down."

Elias glances at him and simpers, "Thanks for the commentary Eskild."

"Elias dude, tell us what's going on," Mutta urges, "Those guys were way too official for our standards."

Elia's looks between them, pupils juddering, "Oh you know…" and a bubble catches in his throat, "just your typical day in the Kose. Some guy's trying to kill me is all."

There are shaken gasps and uneasy looks being exchanged between them. Elias drops his face in his hands and Eskild rubs his shoulders.

"Start from the beginning," Jonas tells him, words sharp and low-key protective, "Is this about the case?"

That catches Elias and he looks up at Jonas, squinting at him with a sharp look. Jonas just shrugs, "So what? We may have been eaves dropping, just a little."

Elias rolls his eyes and falls back against the bench with another petulant puff. He decides on just pulling off the band-aid in one foul swoop and gives them the full rundown. How Ricardo Montoya, a high-profile drug lord from Columbia had some unsavoury dealings go sour in the United States. How he fled to Europe and was laying low and living the good life in some remote cabin in the Norwegian mountains, but was later discovered by the authorities and is now awaiting extradition back to the States where he's supposed to be tried. Elias' mother, the Justice Minister, is a key player in the whole affair because she's the one who decides Ricardo's fate, whether or not he'll be returned to the States and when. Basically authorities fear Ricardo's son, Louise, (known to be even more volatile and callous than his old man) could try bartering for his father's freedom by striking against the Bakkoush family personally.

The government wants to move Elias and his family into protective custody, at least until Louise is obtained. Thing is, Elias is eighteen now which means he can't be forced to go with this family if he chooses not to. The decision is his to make and from what it seems, he's struggling hard with that responsibility.

"The plane's leaving tomorrow," Elias finishes, "and I'm not even sure where it's going. They won't tell us anything, except that's it's a secure 'government instillation,' whatever that means. All I know is we wouldn't be back till Louise is in custody and they've got no clue where the guy even is, so that could take months…maybe longer."

"Shit," Mutta utters, "It's like you're in some twisted episode of Narcos or something."

Even gives him a wan face, "Mutta, c'mon man, this is serious."

Elias looks up from where he's been glaring at his hands and his eyes instantly soften the moment he find Yousef, who's been eerily silent and unsmiling throughout his entire story. He slaps the back of his hand against Yousef's stomach, capturing his attention. Yousef blinks and when he opens his eyes, they look aqueous, _shaken_.

"I'm sorry," Elias says gingerly, "has Sana told you anything?"

Yousef gulps and his atoms apple bobs harshly beneath his taught neck. It's the saddest Jonas has ever seen him. He let's out an embarrassed laugh that sounds more like a suppressed sob and shakes his head, "I tried calling her but…" and his words hitch, "she's not answering me." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. Checks it again and his nostrils flare because of course there's no message awaiting him.

He glances back to Elias and whispers lugubriously _,_ "Elias...she wouldn't just leave right?"

Elias rises off the bench and steps up to his best friend. It's crazy he's comforting someone else right now. Even despite all the terrible stuff he's been through today, he's not even worrying about any of that because Yousef is right here, looking like a kicked puppy. It's only a small fraction of why Jonas admires Elias. He's the type of guy to be another person's strength. _Commiserative_. Giving when he's barely got enough to hold himself together. He places an affectionate hand on the back of Yousef's neck, "Hey, listen to me, alright? This doesn't mean anything. She's probably still processing all that's going on. You know how she needs her space sometimes."

_More like all the time._

"But I know my sister okay? She won't disappear on you. Not without saying goodbye first."

Yousef closes his eyes, drops his forehead against Elias' and an electric sense of history, of friendship and devotion and love passes between them in a silent warming current.

"But I think she's avoiding me."

"You think?" Elias chuckles, he leans back and smiles lightly, "she'll come around Yo Yo, don't worry."

Yousef nods and his lip quirk just a little at the endearing nickname only Elias is allowed to call him. It's not quite the smile they're used to seeing, but it's progress.

"I'm going to text her again though…." he says and Elias pinches Yousef's chin, gives it a waggle cause he's completely hopeless. "Okay, but you know how she hates that though."

"What about school?" Even asks plaintively, interrupting them.

Elias steps back to face the entire group shrugging in nonchalance, "What about it?"

Even furrows his brows, like isn't it obvious? "Well, will you have a tutor where you're going? You'll still be able to graduate on time right?"

"Ja the agents said something about tutors but it doesn't matter anyway, cause I'm not going."

_Wait. The fuck?_

"What are you even on about?" Jonas demurs, stepping up and not even hiding the incredulity in his tone. "Yes you are."

Elias is derisive, glares "Didn't realize you were my fucking handler Jonas."

Jonas clenches his fists at his side, a fevered heat in his figertips, "Guess that confirms I'll need to get a leash then," and he feels Even touch his arm, trying to pacify him, " _Jesus_ are you actually debating this right now?"

"Nai, _actually_ I'm not," Elias grits back, "Like I said, I'm staying right here."

"Elias sweetie…" Eskild placates, "I think you need to think about this—"

"I'm not going Eskild!"

Elias is all hands now, gesturing loudly in that way he does when he's passionate about something. _Apoplectic_. His eyes fierce and blinkered, "I'm not missing out on graduating with my friends, or Russ or upending my entire life just because some asshole somewhere thinks he can fuck me over just cause he has daddy issues. Let him c'mere and try!"

The tension is thick. You'd need a buzz saw to cut through it. They're knee-deep in silence but everyone is still moving in nervous ticks. Twiddling thumbs, darting eyes irritably, tapping their feet and chewing fingernails into oblivion but no one's actually saying a word. They know by now how stubborn Elias can be. When he settles his mind on something, he rare to change it. It can be infuriating to a level of just wanting to throttle him, and right now Jonas is definitely suppressing that urge. _What the hell is he thinking?_ His life is on the line and he's worried about graduation? Russ? He didn't even think Elias cared all that much about dumb stuff like that. He thought he was less asinine than this! For fuck sake, are his priorities really so chequered?

Just then the Dean materializes just in time to rescue them from their awkward standstill. Strides through the tree path toward them. He's removed his jacket, either from the stifling stress or heat, Jonas isn't sure, but he's shucked it over his shoulder and hooked the collar with his index finger so it hangs over his back. He comes to a stop at the foot of the deck, leather oxfords raking over the dried dirt path. Takes one look at their miserable expressions and quickly deduces that Elias has already filled them in.

He leans an arm on the handrail and gets straight to the point, not beating round the bush, "Why don't you boys head inside, hmm? Help your roommate start packing. He's got an early flight to catch in the morning."

Elias looks at him defiantly, rolls his jaw and says "Trying to get rid of me Dean? You know, I don't plan on making it so easy."

The Dean remains reticent, _austerely,_ holds his gaze for a minute but Elias is unrelenting. The Dean's first to break and turns with a sigh to address Esklid. Subtly he gestures his head toward the house, brows spiking in direction.

Eskild catches on, "Right, well…tea! Anyone for tea? I could use some tea right now. I think we could all go for a cup of tea right now. Maybe give Elias some time to think things over…"

"Eskild I said—"

Eskild throws the screen door open with a creak, "It's just tea Elias, I'm not frogmarching you to your doom. C'mon, you can gripe some more once you're hydrated."

The boys head inside with heavy heads and dragging feet. All save for Jonas who's asked to stay behind by the Dean. Once they're alone, Jonas turns to face the older man, dips his hands in his pockets and shrugs, "Sup sir?"

The Dean rubs a hand over his gaping bald spot that's surrounded by a thinning halo of auburn hair, exactly like Eva's colour. They've got the same eyes too, _deeply grey_ , except the Dean's are heavier and marred by thin, crêpey skin. Worn out. _The pressure of carying two thousand student's futures on your shoulders will do that._ Jonas takes him in, and it's weird realizing Eva's a lot more like her father than she cares to admit. The similarities don't stop at the physical. They're both formidable—have this inherent need to do right by others, fix what's broken, people mostly _—him particularly._ Are well meaning to a fault and he resents them even more for it, for taking an initiative when he can even do that for himself. Maybe that why he does what he does, punishes himself by punishing them.

The Dean throws a thumb over his shoulder, points behind him. "Walk me to my car kid."

They take the gravel path through the trees. Birds are swoop-soaring and whistling from where they've perched on the branches overhead. The clouds have shifted to overcast, and there's a pleasant breeze wafting around them—hissing between branches and mingling with the hum of cicadas.

"I need you to do me a favour son," his tone is dire, matter-of-fact, and when Jonas glances over, he finds the older man is looking at him suppliantly in a way Jonas has never seen before.

"Come again…?" he blinks, dazed, unsure what's happening right now. There must've been some cosmic upsurge in the atmosphere like the world's tilting on its access or Pluto's back in retrograde or something. "You're asking for my help?"

"Don't flatter yourself too much," The Dean says, letting out baffled chuckle and seeming just as confused about the situation as Jonas is, "I wouldn't ask, except for there's no one else I can really think to resort to in a situation like this."

"Well don't I feel special," Jonas says saucily.

"Look," And it's back to business between them, "I need you to try and convince your friend to get on that plane tomorrow."

A few seconds of fraught stillness passes between them as Jonas soaks in the Dean's words. He's unsure where to sort them in his mind. Unsure what's he's supposed to say, or why the Dean's so keen on _him_ being the one to set Elias straight. It's not that he doesn't care, he loves the guy, _he does_. It's just, out of all their housemates, he's probably the one that Elias is least likely to litsen to, simply cause they've got this natural tendency to tussle in almost every trivial pursuit—and that includes the actual game _Trivial Pursuit_.

Once, on a game night gone wrong, Jonas brandished the quiz card and asked Elias, " _Which North African stew is also the name of the dish it is cooked in_?" When he had no clue, Jonas of course decided to ask Even just to piss Elias off some more. Even hesitantly answered, " _Tagine_ ," apparently a Moroccan specialty and another recipe he'd learned from Mrs. Bakkoush. And then Jonas started chirping Elias for knowing jack squat about his own culture and _ja_... things sort of escalated from there. Elias knocked the board across the table, Jonas threw the cards after him. They both stormed off.

So ja, _it's a lot_ to have that kind of pressure being placed on him. He thinks if he even attempts cracking through Elias' rock hard skull, it'll just wind up being a total, messy disaster. And say something happens to Elias now because of him, either because Jonas didn't try, or didn't try hard enough, he doesn't know if he could ever forgive himself over it. For hurting someone he loves... _again_.

Jonas really hates the Dean right now, for even putting him in this situation to begin with. _That's not fair._

They're at the Dean's car now, a clam coloured, Lincoln Continental. The Dean pulls out his keys and opens the door but hesitates for another moment. He leans a hand on the rooftop, waiting on Jonas expectantly.

Jonas is petulant, "What makes you think he'll even listen to me?" he asks mulishly.

"C'mon kid." The Dean's staring at him, long and hard and the pressure of his gaze is like a dull ache. Like pressing his thumb into a bruise. "I'll never understand it, but those boys in there…" he points at Kosegruppa Hall through the trees, "They'd follow you into fire if you asked them."

Jonas makes fists in his pockets, nails digging harshly into his palm, probably leaving behind ugly crescent moons. He knows they would. _That's the problem._

"Hey," The Dean supplies, keeps trying desperatly to reach him. He places a hand on Jonas' arm, and Jonas stiffens rigidly in that way he gets when confronted by an authority figure.

"Please, just think about what I've said. Can you at least do that?"

Jonas shrugs him off. Says nothing right away, hoping the Dean will accept that and move on, but he should know better by now. Like Eva, he's got this uncanny ability to stare longer then most humans are capable of. _Riding it out._

"Ja, whatever…maybe," Jonas eventually spits out, unable to take the Dean's scrutinizing eyes for another second. _But he probably wont. Doesn't owe the Dean anything._

The Dean accepts that, _for now_. The window is down, so he doesn't loose sight of Jonas once as he gets into his car. His eyes stay keen and he hangs his arm out the window, eases his body to lean slightly outside and addresses Jonas again.

"One more thing,' he states, "have you been meddling around the cafeteria kitchen as of late?"

Elias is momentarily forgotten and Jones bites back a smirk. A crimson flush creeping all the way up his neck to the very tips of his ears. Once again, he's grateful for being magnifecently brown, otherwise he'd just be a nailed tomato right now. He tilts his head, feigning ignorance, "Nai, why do you ask?"

"I'm just having trouble comprehending how a full Norwegian Salmon could manifest itself into my air vents."

Jonas has the foresight to never forget the first rule in the _Big Unwritten Book of Prankology_ : _deny and deflect._

"No idea sir, maybe it swam itself there from the Fjord?"

The Dean pierces his lips, but Jonas thinks there's a hint of smile there, like he's fighting against his own, exasperated amusement.

"Alright, play it that way." He turns the key in the ignition and the car engine roars to life. "But remember, I'm always watching."

_Who's this guy think he is? Santa Clause?_

Jonas rolls his eyes and starts backtracking his way up the path but an impulsive, definitely nonsensical something inside makes him halt. He feels suddenly, very stupidly brazen. The Dean hasn't sped off yet, he's still getting himself situated, throwing his jacket on the passenger seat and having already disregarded Jonas. 

But Jonas has never been one to make a silent departure and he whirls around, plasters on a cheese-ball grin and shouts, "Hey Dean!"

The Dean wizens up and turns back to face him, raising a brow expectantly. 

"Tell Eva I say hi, will you?" His words are silky, wicked and the connotation behind them isn't lost on the man. He stares square at Jonas with a baleful expression and points a reproving finger, "Keep trying my patience kid and you just might be expelled yet."

Jonas smirks coyly and then the Dean's backing out of the forest, peeling off toward the main campus.

Jonas waits till the car's out of sight before pulling out his phone. He's teeming with restless energy, still with the Dean's request looming over him and gnawing at his conscience; everything that's happening with Elias and how it's suddenly _his problem_. He can't figure this out alone, so he opens chat and launches the "Kose Bros" group chat that they've got going between the eleven of them and starts typing.

Kose Bros  


911\. Family Meeting at Kose ASAP

Mikael

👍 Can head over after my bio exam!

Elias

I know what this is about Jonas and you can count me out. This doesn’t  
concern anyone but me and I’ve made my mind up.

Stop being a jerk Elias. You know full well this isn’t just about you. I think we should all have the chance to say our piece.

Elias

Thanks for your two cents on MY DAMN BUSINESS!

Magnus

Wait, what’s happening now?

Isak

Sounds like Elias and Jonas are fighting again.

Mikael

Surprise. Surprise. Seriously, you two just need to bang already! 🍆🍆

Magnus

LOL can I watch!? 😂

Elias

Hard pass on that, thanks.

One thing we can agree on.

Even

It’s a little more complicated than a pissing contest this time guys. Just head  
over when you can, better we explain in person.

Adam

So this isn’t about the leftover pizza I ate from the fridge…?

Elias

I’m sorry Even, we?

Even

Just want to help.

Yousef

Adam really? 🤦

Elias

That’d be nice Ev, except I didn’t ask.

Don’t be a dick dude.

Mahdi

Adam you bastard! That pizza was mine! Motion to vote Adam off the island for  
stealing everyone’s food? ✋🏾

Isak

Elias, what’s going on?

Adam

Maybe skip the olives next time. Mutta ate it too! 🍕

Mutta

DUDE!!!

Mahdi

Don't diss my olives. And should we be worried?

Adam

Ja man, what’s up?

Magnus

What’s happening!!?? I’m so confused! Is this about pizza or not?

Elias

Don’t worry so much guys, really.

Elias is downplaying.

Elias

Isak, control your hoe.

🖕

Isak

😒

Eskild

Elias, I’m making this meeting mandatory. I’m sorry but I think Jonas is right.

Elias has left the chat.

Even

Elias just stormed upstairs.

Fucking pouter.

Yousef

Come on dude, give him a break.

Mahdi

Okay, Mags and I are on our way now. Hope everything’s okay.

Adam

Me too!

Isak

I’ll wait for Mikael and we’ll head over together. Don’t kill each other before  
we get back.

You better hurry the hell up then.

Isak

Why do I have a feeling that this is what we're walking into when we get there?

...

He's about to place his phone back in his pocket when it pings again. He's expecting another response from one of the guys but his heart jolts when he opens the message and sees who it's from.

Thea  


So, apparently Juvenile arthritis is a thing? 🤔 And since you haven't responded yet, I'm going to assume that the only reasonable explanation is you're physically incapable. Better we diagnose you sooner rather than later. Are you feeling a sudden case of the finger jidders? Fever? Fatigue? It might be too late for you bro. But don't worry, I'll still care for your crippled, un-texting ass. Actually, no I won't. EAT SHIT AND DIE.

...

Jonas clutches his phone tightly, hands shaking around the case. He drops his head back against his neck, stares at the clouds and sighs into the blue abyss. Wishes he could scream into it instead. _Inwardly he does._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***I realized that in some mobile browsers Isak's last text gets cut off. Still trying to debug this issue but if this was the case for any of you, here's what he said, "Why do I have a feeling that this is what we're walking into when we get there?" Followed by a gif of a ridiculously chaotic scene from the television series community. Lol
> 
> ANYWAY, what did you guys think? If you enjoyed this chapter, please, please, please leave a comment and let me know what your thoughts are. Your kind words fill me with joy and keep me motivated to continue writing. Thank you so much for reading guys and thanks in advance for any comments, kudos or bookmarks. I'll see you guys on the next one xoxo!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please do leave a comment, kudos or bookmark! I always appreciate feedback and it keeps me motivated to continue writing my stories. I hope to hear what you think and thanks so much for reading!


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